Montreal rarely comes up in stories about Kamala Harris, but I imagine the city shaped her in ways it shaped me. We both went to high school there. We were both children of immigrants, and both straddled identities that didn’t fit neatly into any one box.
For both of us, Montreal was a backdrop for the social skills, quick reads, and quiet adjustments that would eventually help us navigate the complexity of workplaces. Harris’s path led her to the White House, mine to the art world. Two very different destinations (to put it mildly). But neither was built with people like us in mind.
When that’s true, you learn to fit in. But real success means not having to shrink.
I suspect Harris and I picked this up long before work ever entered the picture.
In her memoir 107 Days, she wrote, “None of them grasped that if I did well, he did well” — an insight into what happens when a workplace demands smallness instead of creating room to thrive. That tension between shrinking and thriving is everywhere. And it extends far beyond the White House.
Recent history made that painfully clear.
During the 2020s’ so-called racial reckoning, the U.S. saw an uptick in Black leaders getting their due, with splashy headlines announcing exciting posts. But the silent departures came just as quickly. Brilliant colleagues leaving after a year, sometimes less. One told me, “I was not treated as a leader.” Another said, “I always felt like I was asking too many questions. And never the right ones.”
These stories weren’t exceptions. They revealed a pattern that led me, with colleagues Ola Mobolade and Julia V. Hendrickson, to co-found an agency focused on one question: how do we make sure people are not just hired, but supported, trusted, and set up to thrive?
Every day, this work confirms that thriving isn’t luck or personality alone. It’s structure. And the more I listen, the more these three truths become clear.
First Truth: Kind Invitations Aren’t Always Kind
I’ve seen what happens when institutions hire someone and call it change. They get the headlines, but they don’t get the transformation. It’s not that the invitation to sit at the table isn’t kind. It probably is. Which, for Black women in particular, is often part of the problem. When the invitation is only meant to be kind, the organization isn’t prepared to absorb new leadership, initiative, or clarity. And someone who stepped through the door ready to thrive, can quickly move from a pet to a threat.
A Harvard Kennedy School study of more than 9,000 new hires found that Black women on predominantly white teams faced an 8.9-point higher turnover rate than white women. And Forbes recently estimated that the cost of nearly 300,000 Black women leaving the U.S. workforce — in just a few months — was $37 billion. Those numbers don’t reflect a lack of talent; they reflect environments that don’t empower people to succeed.
Empowerment starts with shifting power beyond titles and toward access and trust. It means giving people real budgets, clear authority, and the confidence that their decisions will stand. It means treating invitations as partnerships — because when people have the tools and freedom to do their best work, everyone thrives.
It also means dismantling organizational structures that enable pet-to-threat cycles.
Second Truth: Recognition Is More Than Praise
Feedback doesn’t mean what it used to. As a Gen Xer, praise wasn’t part of the culture that raised me.
One Gallup survey found that employees who do not feel adequately recognized are twice as likely to say they’ll quit in the next year. People don’t just want to be noticed; they want to be known. This isn’t about flattery. It’s about clarity and consistency. It’s managers who share credit publicly and feedback privately. It’s regular check-ins instead of only annual reviews. It’s leaders who ask — not assume — what support looks like for each person.
When acknowledgment is built into the rhythm of the work, people stop guessing whether they belong.
Managers, this means not waiting until something is wrong to say, “I see you.”
To the people waiting for recognition, don’t wait. Ask, “Can we sit down? I’d like to check-in.”
Save the guess work for Wordle.
Third Truth: Consistency Turns Progress Into Legacy
Anyone can make a statement. We’ve seen the hashtags, the commitments, the glossy reports. But sustaining that vision day to day — through budgets, meetings, and quiet decisions — is what separates performance from progress.
The Studio Museum in Harlem proves the point. Over decades, its steady support of the people who shaped the institution also shaped leaders whose influence reaches far beyond its walls. Investing in people’s growth extended the Museum’s impact well beyond any single tenure. That kind of influence comes from vision, yes — but more importantly, from the consistent dedication to ensuring the institution excelled alongside the people who made it what it is.
Real impact spreads that way. Slowly. Consistently.
These three truths make one thing clear: thriving isn’t a perk. It’s what keeps the whole system standing.
I know not everyone will excel at work in the same way. We all enter workplaces with conditions that shape how we perform. But leaders have a choice: they can open doors and hope for the best, or they can build environments that set people up to win in the types of jobs Harris and I might have dreamt about in high school.
Her memoir is about politics, but the truth she names transcends any one field: success is bound together. And I like to imagine that Montreal — a city of brutal winters, divisive politics, and good meals — taught both of us that no one thrives alone.